Page 54 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

I was sick to death of feeling like a victim and didn’t want to be treated like an invalid, either. “How about I make lunch for you two?” I offered. “If you don’t mind me going through your fridge. I promised Mik I’d bring him something.”

They both squawked indignantly. “He should be making you something.”

“No, he’s done enough. Poor guy was trapped in the room while I was wasting the morning away.”

“No one thinks that, least of all Mik,” CJ said. “He knows what your ex is capable of, and he knows how important it is to keep you safe. Did you think he’d marry you just to let you deal with him on your own?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her face turned beet red, and she swallowed hard, glancing at Jenna. “It’s okay,” Jenna said. “It’s not that easy to keep a secret in this family, but you can count on me to keep yours and Mik’s.”

“Sorry,” CJ said. “I thought they should know how serious this is.”

If I thought I felt pathetic before, I was wrong. I hated lying to them, but now that they knew that Mik married me to keep me safe from my nasty ex, I felt about as empowered as a gnat in front of these two women who were worshipped by their husbands.

Not pitied.

It was that awful prickling feeling of uselessness that had me blurting out my side of the arrangement. My mouth just took over to save my last shred of pride. “If Mik’s dad weren’t so old-fashioned that he insisted on an arranged marriage in this day and age, he wouldn’t have a target on his back. I wanted to help out and made things worse in every way.”

Probably like CJ when she let it slip that she knew why Mik proposed this arrangement in the first place, I already regretted it. But they didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.

In fact, Jenna laughed. “You mean how Konstantin’s always threatening to marry Sofiya off to one of his business partners?” she asked.

CJ looked at me for a long moment before adding, “Isn’t he mostly joking when he does that?”

Were they confused or was I? It couldn’t be that Mik had made that up about his father, could it? Talk about feeling pathetic. That last shred of pride fluttered away like a dust mote in a tornado. How badly did Mik pity me that he made up a story like that to get me to agree to this fake marriage, solely to protect me when there was nothing in it for him?

“Please don’t look so sad,” CJ said in an undertone while Jenna hurried to run outside at the sound of her son calling for her. “Mik cares about you, that’s plain for anyone to see, no matter how you two ended up together. One day I’ll fill you in on how I ended up married to Mat. That’s how I know Mik truly cares. He looks at you the same way Mat looks at me.”

In any other circumstance, her reassurances might have made me feel better. But they only made things worse, because I knew what was in Rand’s twisted soul. He couldn’t allow me to be happy, and that meant destroying anyone who might become part of my life.

“Okay,” I said, hiding the tremble in my voice and forcing a smile. “Don’t let me get in your way. I’ll make Mik his sandwich and take it up to him.”

She tried to get me to see I wasn’t in the way, and refused to let me make her or Jenna something while I blindly pulled out whatever lunch meat I could find and slap it between two slices of bread. My mind was lost in a cycle of fear that wouldn’t stop churning up horrible scenarios.

Now Mik was in Rand’s sights, and while I knew exactly what the monster I used to live with was capable of, I didn’t know how to stop him.

Chapter 32 - Mikhail

Once I was certain that Georgiy would make a complete recovery and only needed a few stitches and some rest, I hustled Laurel back on the plane to LA. It was as safe at Lev’s as staying in my own house, but Laurel couldn’t let herself relax there, feeling like a burden and an uninvited guest.

“You’re not a guest at all,” I told her. “You’re family. Mat gave me my first job when I was fifteen. He’s like an older brother and an uncle all rolled into one to me. He’d jump in front of a bullet for me, and you.”

Oops, wrong thing to say. She blanched. “I don’t want anyone jumping in front of bullets for me,” she cried. “I don’t want anything to do with bullets.”

It was time to go home where she could feel safe without jumping up trying to make tea or coffee for Jenna or offer to play with Artem when the nanny was off duty. It was endearing, but a bit heartbreaking to see her bending over backward to make herself seem capable instead of a victim, and infuriating that she refused to believe none of this was her fault.

The last thing that would help would be to blurt out that I was a member of a crime family that a massive amount of people around the world wanted to see any given one of us dead at any time, so I continued to keep my mouth shut.

She was already bouncing back to normal on the flight home, getting frisky and making me keep my promise about the Mile High Club.

“You must think I’m some kind of… what do you call it? A player? I’ve never had sex on a plane, either,” I said when her moans were winding down, and she still writhed on my lap under the blanket I draped over our shoulders.

“You haven’t?” she asked, pleased.

I kissed each of her rosy cheeks. “I do love making you blush,” I said.

We had to scramble to get our clothes in order before we landed, and she was her bright and cheerful self by the time we arrived back at my house later that evening. It had been days since we had even a mild argument. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last one.

I braced myself for one now as I announced the decision I made while we were still in San Francisco.